Dearly Beloved
by oneclicklater
Summary: Dipper attends Mabel's wedding. (Pinecest)
1. Chapter 1

Some days you don't exist.

You wake up whenever best suits you, you spend the day reading in your dorm room, or studying alone. Some days you attend class. Some days you talk to people - your friends - but only the ones who don't appear to notice or care about your consistently negative attitude. Your quiet demeanor. Your distance from the rest of the world. These days are few and far between. Most days you don't exist.

You exist today - but only for her. You didn't want to get out of bed this morning, you didn't want to put on this suit, and you certainly didn't want to be standing at the front of the church, behind the man who stole her away from you. But the image of her face - distraught upon realizing her own brother has neglected her wedding - kills you. So now here you are.

You will not think about her today in the ways that you usually do. You will not think about you and her together. Today is not about you, it is about her.

In front of you, the church hums with anticipation. Pairs of eyes face towards you, but you do not meet any of them. Pairs of eyes periodically turn to the church doors, which is where yours are fixed. You notice the groom shift his feet in your peripheral vision. Nerves. You don't feel nervous. You feel nothing. You haven't felt anything since the bachelor party, where he wouldn't stop talking about her. How crazy he is about her. How in love they are.

The doors slowly open, and in she walks. You gasp unexpectedly, but really, what did you expect? She is stunning. Her glowing white dress accentuates her lean figure, her chocolate curls hang delicately over her shoulders, her naturally rosy cheeks rise when she smiles broadly and looks down the aisle ahead of her with nothing but confidence, and she has never looked more beautiful. As far as you're concerned, no one has ever looked so beautiful.

Of course she would not make this easy on you.

She takes her first step towards the altar, arm linked with your father's. Her first step towards a life she has always wanted, with a man she can bring home for dinner, a man she can tell her friends about, a man she can kiss in public. You could never be those things. She is getting married at twenty-one, and you try to tell yourself that she is not doing it because of you. She is not doing this to solidify the reality that you could never be those things. To remind you that it's over.

She takes another step and you notice the flower in her hair. It's the same one she wore at prom, three and a half years ago. You snuck out of the fire exit and ran through the woods, hand in hand, laughing, to the place you hadn't shown her yet. The clearing at the top of that hill, where you can look out over the entire city's dazzling lights, and when you're tired of that, you can look up at the few - but incredible - stars visible on a California night. You still remember her face as your running came to a halt, her giggling abruptly ceased, and she almost fell into your side with disbelief. You remember how she whispered _it's beautiful_ , how you stepped into her view, took both of her hands, you remember the way she looked up at you like everything in her world in that moment was so perfect. Like nothing would ever tear you apart. You remember the way she kissed you. Her laugh as you pulled your phone and headphones from your pocket.

 _My my, Dipper, who knew you were such a romantic?_

The voice is so clear in your head that you have to confirm that she hasn't just said it, out loud, at the other end of the church. She hasn't.

She has taken a few more steps forward. Her smile has faded, replaced by... apprehension? Regret? Perhaps that's wishful thinking.

You've seen her look at you like that before, though. One of the first times she stood silently in your doorway, downcast face illuminated by the moon, and her eyes asked you if she could come in, and you nodded. _I'm scared, Dipper,_ she murmured as she ran her fingers through your hair and you kissed her neck. _I know,_ you cooed, _I am too,_ but you kept kissing her anyway. She kept kissing you back. She lay down on top of you anyway, and you kept caressing her back. The clothes came off anyway, and you told her you loved her, and she told you she loved you back.

Halfway to the altar now, and she meets your gaze. She locks eyes with you and you alone - not the other groomsmen. Your heart stands still as you realize that, only for a split second, she looks terrified.

You've seen that look before, as well. Christmas, nearly four years ago. She came out of her bedroom as you left the bathroom, and you met in the hallway, and she held up a piece of mistletoe and grinned massively. _Lookie what I got,_ she beamed, and before you could say anything her lips were on the side of your mouth, and you made a half-hearted _mwah_ sound as you felt yourself start to sweat. _Well that was hardly a proper mistletoe kiss, now was it?_ she teased, and then her lips were on yours again. She kissed you, and when she moved in to kiss you again, you kissed her back. Then you were just kissing, upstairs in your house, the whole family gathered not ten feet below you, oblivious to her moaning quietly into her brother's mouth, to the hand you had under your sister's sweater. When she finally pulled away, you still remember the look on her face. The look of sheer terror. You avoided each other for weeks.

Her eyes fall back to her husband-to-be in less than a half second, and you wonder what she is thinking. You want to ask her what she thinks about when she falls asleep at night. Does she think of you? Ever? Stop. Today is not about you.

She takes careful steps to the altar, she kisses your dad's cheek, and turns to face the groom. She takes his hands and you wonder how warm her hands are. They were always so warm.

 _Dearly beloved,_ the priest begins, and you almost throw up. Because this is happening. It's real, there's no denying it anymore, and you're on a fast track to a life without her. A life where you and her together is no longer a possibility. No, no, it was never a possibility. You don't need her to tell you that again, do you?

She stands opposite her groom, warm smile returned to her face, loving eyes gazing into his. She used to look at you like that, remember? Do you remember that?

Don't remember. Remembering hurts. Remembering is masochistic.

As the happy couple repeats their vows, you scan the room. You see your parents, your cousins, your aunts, uncles, great uncles, grandparents, and all of them are so happy for her. All of them watch the proceedings with nothing but love and pride in their eyes, and none of them look at you. None of them know that you were once intimate with this girl. No one has any idea. You almost laugh at how absurd it is.

The moment, the point of no return draws closer, so you start to attempt coming to terms with this new reality. You try and be happy for her - she is getting what she wants. She is happy - just look at her! And at the end of the day, that's all you want. You want her to be happy, with or without you.

You want her to be happy. With or without you. You want her to- no you don't, you don't want her to be with this guy, you never have and you never will. You're not that selfless. You will see her at Thanksgiving, at Christmas, and you'll try and talk to her like normal siblings do, and you will try and hide that you are still in love with her. But you won't be able to, because you are weak. You are weak without her - that you have known for a long time now.

She looks so happy. Why does she look so happy? She can't be this happy. Did you mean anything to her? Two years ago she told you it was over. Eight months ago was when you last kissed - a few days after she got engaged. You asked her why she said yes to him. You argued. She yelled. You asked her how she did it so easily, how she got over you so easily. You both cried hysterically. It was a mistake, a slip-up, but she kissed you. Fiercely, like she used to, and you didn't stop her. _I'm sorry, Dipper,_ she cried, _it's impossible._

Impossible. That's the right word for it. That's the word that'll snap you out of this two-year slump you've been in. _Impossible._ It's impossible for you two to be together, and she is proving it right now by marrying someone else.

Smile. Someone will notice you soon if you're not smiling. Someone will notice the creepy brother who looked dead inside for the entire wedding. Every time you try and smile all you manage to do is scowl, to a point where you worry for your own sanity. There's certainly a screw or two loose up there. How can she smile so easily? What's the secret? The secret must be that you mean a lot less to her than she does to you. Ouch.

The priest asks if anyone has any objections. You have many. So many. But today is not about you, so you keep quiet. The priest makes a joke - something about how that's always a tense moment - and several quiet, almost forced laughs escape the mouths of members of the congregation. You do not laugh. The priest doesn't know the half of it.

Every word after that is a blur. There's a constant, painful ringing in your ears, and your legs feel weak, but you're fine. This has happened before, you're sure it'll happen again. It takes you a few seconds, but you realize she is married. She has flung her arms around the groom's neck and they share a prolonged kiss. The churchgoers are clapping, the priest gives a satisfied smile, the groom whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle and you can't be sure, but you think you've died and gone to hell.

Now comes your moment. She looks at you. She wants one thing from you. She wants you to smile, to show that you are happy for her, that everything is normal now and you're both going to be okay. You try. Oh, you try, you really do. Because if you can't smile, you may as well have not gotten out of bed today. You may as well have jumped into oncoming traffic on the way here. But you just can't do it. She looks at you for long seconds, fixated on you, waiting patiently for you to smile, to give your approval. The room is in slow motion, you're only focused on her, there's nothing else to distract you but you just cannot smile. The one thing you came here to do - to be here for your sister. You had one fucking job and you couldn't do it. You failure. She looks away and her husband sweeps her off her feet.

And because by this point you're already delirious, you remember something else.

 _And that's when you say it,_ a six year old Mabel told you.

 _Say what?_

 _That's when you say the magic words._

 _Please?_

 _Dipper,_ she huffed, playing with the hem of her bridesmaid dress. _What do people say at weddings?_

 _Oh! 'I do'._

 _And Mabel, do you take this man to be your awfully wedded husband?_ She paused for dramatic effect. _I do!_ Another pause. _Then you may now kiss the bride._

You stood still, brows furrowed.

She sighed. _You may now_ kiss _the bride._

 _Oh!_ You kissed her cheek.

She folded her arms and frowned at you. You hesitantly leaned forward and kissed her lips. She clapped and squeezed your cheeks.

 _Dipper, who are you going to marry when you grow up?_

 _What? I dunno._

 _I'm going to marry you._

 _What? You can't marry_ me.

 _Why not?_

 _Because I'm your brother!_

 _So?_

 _So that's not allowed Mabel. I don't think it is._

 _Well I'll make it allowed. Then we can be together forever!_

You watch him carry her to the door. And she is gone forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Don't open the door. Don't open that door don't you open it don't you

Darn. Your dad just opened the door. That's okay. You couldn't get married if the door was _closed_ , silly. It's the moment you knew was coming, it's time to face the music, Mabel, dear, this is what you wanted, isn't it? Deep breaths.

You see him. Your groom. Liam. Lovely lovely lovely Liam. You see a hundred pairs of eyes on you but you pay them no mind. Why should you? Today is about you and him. You and Liam. It is your wedding day, it is the day you have dreamed about since you were a little girl, and Liam is your fairytale prince and you love him ever so much.

It doesn't feel like a fairytale, though. Far from it. You shake with nerves, but they're not typical wedding day nerves, they're something else entirely. You know why - the reason why you shake with nerves stands five feet from your groom and has curly brown hair, but you won't admit that. Not just yet.

He showed up, at least. Part of you expected him not to, part of you would be upset forever if he didn't, part of you wanted him not to. He's going to make this harder. You're not going to look at him throughout the ceremony. Not once. No need to make this any harder than it already is, is there? Nuh-uh.

Goodness knows how long you've been standing here, staring down the aisle of this church at your hubbie-to-be. But you realize you're not smiling. Oops! First mistake, right there. That's fine. You smile wide, to make up for it. You smile right at Liam and his own nervous smile grows, and for a split second this isn't so bad. You do love this man, and you do want to marry him, so here. We. Go.

One step forward. That wasn't so hard. At least, it wasn't hard until your foot came in contact with the floor and your leg wobbled. It triggers a memory you really didn't want to remember today because it's happened before. Your leg wobbling like that.

You were stepping into his bedroom for the first time in five weeks (you counted the days). You almost collapsed after the first step through his doorway but he didn't notice, because he had his earphones in and was facing away from you. You wanted to turn around and run but you didn't, because this had to be resolved. _Dipper,_ you said, a little too loudly, and a little too panicky, and he almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of you. _We should talk,_ you added, and then you apologized for kissing him five weeks ago, and then the words you hadn't even planned on saying spewed from your mouth like an unstoppable flood of unspeakable emotions. _Feelings, weird, crazy, you, attracted, don't-know-what-to-do_ and before you knew it you were kissing again. Only he started it this time. And it didn't end in guilt, terror, or even confusion. It ended with uncontrollable giggles and kisses on your neck and a big big hug that told you that even though this was scary, you were in it together. God, you loved him.

You love him. Geez, Mabel, really? You took _one freaking step_ before you caved in and thought about your brother. You are weak sauce.

On the next step, you try to focus on remembering how to walk. Forcing thoughts from your head. No thoughts are necessary, here, it's really quite simple. Eyes on the prize and lips curled upwards. All throughout. Your dad is helping you, you won't fall over. You won't fall over and bump your head and forget where you are and have to delay the wedding and maybe even forget about Liam entirely and then maybe the nightmare will be over and

Stop. You _want_ to get married. You've always wanted to get married. You used to get pretend-married to your brother all the time.

Maybe it's that memory that makes you look at him. You certainly don't mean to look at him, it's all instinctive. But you see him, clearly, and you immediately know how hard it was for him to get out of bed this morning. It's hurting him so much. _You're_ hurting him. So that _you_ can have a normal life. You monster. Selfish selfish selfish

No. Not selfish. Reasonable, safe, _necessary_. You've been over this.

Before you tear your eyes away from him, you take in his suit. His posture. His hands folded behind his back and he looks so much like that one time

in winter. He told you to wear your finest dress and meet him outside. He leaned against your shared car in a shirt and a tie and his darkest pair of jeans and you fell more in love with him than you thought humanly possible. You remember the hour long drive to that restaurant far outside of town. You remember the pricey food and the way he wouldn't let you pay for any of it. You remember laughing hand in hand on your way to the movie theatre, you remember sitting in the furthest row from the screen, you remember his hand on your thigh and your tongue in his mouth. You remember popcorn and candy and Dipper. You remember thanking him profusely on the way home because you knew how hard it was for him. You knew how much he worried about being seen. You remember telling him to pull over on a quiet road and you remember showing him how grateful you _really_ were and

what a horribly inappropriate thing to think about on your wedding day. You are ten feet away from your soon-to-be husband, daydreaming about touching one of his groomsmen who just happens to be your twin brother. You are human garbage.

You're here now, at least. You've made it to the altar without falling over. Good job. Now all you need to do is stand here and smile and show Liam how happy you are. Listen to the priest. Soon you will have to repeat after him, just like in rehearsals, and you can manage that. You've rehearsed your lines just like you've practiced your smile. You know you're assuring everyone around you that you are indeed happy, because you've seen your forced smile. It's terribly convincing. You haven't _really_ smiled in months.

 _I, Mabel Pines,_

Your voice doesn't falter at all. For a split second, you're proud of yourself. Here comes the most important part - if you accidentally say Dipper's name, there's going to be hundreds of gasps and confused murmurs all around you and you'll probably die of embarrassment. _Not_ what you want on your wedding day.

 _Take thee, Liam Fuller,_

Phew. Your voice wavers on the last syllable and you clear your throat but that's okay, everyone will know you're just a little emotional because this is a big moment. The important part is over; you did not say his name.

You said it in bed once, but Liam didn't hear you. Thank goodness for that. That would have been Messy with a capital M. M-e-s-s-y. Messy.

His hair is messy. You can see it in your peripheral vision, and you laugh internally as you imagine him trying to style it in some way this morning before he left his dorm. There's nothing you can do with Dipper's hair, it just always bounces back into a soft, curly mess and you love it. It's thick and you can hold on to it and curl it around your fingers and no matter how hard you grip it - when he does _things_ to you that make you grip it - he doesn't mind. You can whisper your apology and he will tell you it's fine. He tells you softly. He's soft like that. Gentle. Kind. Understanding.

Just like he understands that you have to do this, right? He understands that you _have_ to marry someone else, doesn't he? He understands that you're not doing this to hurt him. He must understand that.

The magic words are out of your mouth so quickly, purely out of panic. You kiss Liam with as much passion as you can muster, which isn't a whole lot, and he whispers sweetly in your ear that you're making him the happiest guy on Earth.

Of course, you're also making someone the most miserable guy on Earth, so you suppose the two balance each other out. Still, giggle for show. Giggle like a little girl because that's what people want to see. Happiness.

The church booms with applause, but you don't need their approval. You need one man's approval and his alone.

He stares right back at you.

Smile, dummy. Smile, Dip, please smile. Smile so your sister knows that everything is okay.

Nothing. Nada. He looks broken. Dead inside. You did this. You did this to him. And, oh, have you seen that look before. Two years ago.

 _It's late,_ he told you, _we should talk about this tomorrow._

You swallowed. Hard. _There's nothing_ to _talk about, Dip._ A steady stream of tears ran down your cheeks. _We can't go on doing this._

 _You don't mean that. Come on, I'll drive you home._

 _Dipper, don't do this._

 _Don't do what?_

 _Don't try to ignore what I'm saying like this. You know it's all true. All of it. We have to stop seeing each other-_

 _And do what? Just forget anything ever happened? Forget the last two years of our lives?_

 _If that's what it takes to get back to normal, yes,_ you pleaded. _I still want to be your sister, I still want to be your best friend-_

 _How? How, Mabel? How the fuck are we gonna do that, huh?_

 _We need to lead normal lives. We can't live our lives hiding ourselves from the world, sneaking around, lying to everyone around us, day in, day out, it's not healthy for either of us._

 _You don't think it's worth all of that to be together?_

 _Keep your voice down, people will hear._

 _You don't think we're good for each other, is that it? I know that's not what you think, Mabel._

 _It doesn't_ matter _what I think!_ You were close to hysterical. _It doesn't matter what I think, it doesn't matter what you think, it matters what the rest of the world thinks. It's- it's a crime, it's a sin, it's every bad word under the sun, Dipper, and I don't want it weighing on my conscience anymore. It's something I never should have started in the first place._

You'll never forget the look of utter betrayal on his face. It will haunt your nightmares years from now, you're sure of that. _You don't mean that._

 _I do._ You didn't. But you had to be harsh, otherwise he would never have listened to you. Never would have seen the underlying truth in what you were telling him.

 _Fucking leave then, if you're gonna go._ He opened the door to his room.

 _Dipper-_

 _But listen, Mabel. Don't you_ dare _expect me to go right back to treating you like a sister. Don't you fucking dare. Because it's not going to happen anytime soon. It may never happen._

And that's all he had to say. You had never been so lost for words. The walk past him as he stood, arms folded, eyes glaring to the floor, was the hardest walk you ever took.

The hardest walk you ever took until about thirty minutes ago. Liam is carrying you, now. Carrying you away to safety. To a regular life as a regular wife. The light draws nearer, your smile becomes harder and harder to fake and here you are, back out in the daylight. Away from the groomsman and his taboo temptations.

Dipper is gone and there's no turning back. Well, Mabel girl, you got what you asked for.

How does it feel?


End file.
